


The Trouble With Weddings

by ykaitot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ykaitot/pseuds/ykaitot
Summary: Two weddings that weren't mean to happen... and one that was. A 3-part story on how two reluctant lovers shouldn't get engaged to the wrong people.





	1. Of Honor ONE

**A/N:**  
  


**This fic is set five years after the war. Draco and Blaise turned spies for the Order sometime after the events in Malfoy Manor. I think. I don’t really know. Yes, there was general hate towards the remaining Death Eaters afterwards, but I’d like to think the Wizarding World didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes. Therefore, those who defected were forgiven and allowed to live as normally as they can. The point is that the War is over and this is the story of what happened after. This is a chicklit, a romance, a feel good fic. Let our heroes be normal for once. The era of fearing a snake-like megalomaniac is over. Now their fears are just like ours – commitment and mid-life crisis.**

**You might have read a very similar fic in Wattpad, with almost the same title. That’s because this fic isn’t originally fanfiction. This is technically a Brielle, Christian and Ryland AU.**

_***_

_December_

"I must say, Miss Granger," the voice like smooth velvet made goosebumps erupt on her exposed upper limbs. "The Minister made a poor decision on choosing red as tonight's motif. He clearly did not take into account how the colour could turn a certain lady into a siren. You are the very definition of temptation."

Try as she might, she couldn't keep the tremor from her tone. The man behind her had always affected her in a way. He knew that and exploited it every at chance he got. This time, it was expected. As it was every year since their reconciliation.

Since the end of the war, Minister Shacklebolt held a Christmas party for the Order and the Auror Department. He picked the theme for these events and (nearly) everyone complied with his antics. This year was Snow White in New York – midnight black, blinding white snow, and traffic stopping red. Hermione wasn’t sure how or when the Minister knew about Snow White. Perhaps Hans Christian Anderson was a wizard? Or maybe Walt Disney?

The very first party was held in Hogwarts and Hermione all but refused to go. That was until a certain blonde nuisance (and his mother) showed up at her door, dress and accessories in tow.

“Think of the press, dear!” Narcissa Malfoy tittered at Hermione. “You and Mr Potter believe my son is reformed, but the rest of the Wizarding World still has magnanimous doubts. Better to show a united front, yes?”

Hermione looked to Draco for help. He was grumbling in the corner of her sofa, clearly not agreeing with his mother one bit. She was primped and prodded within an inch of her sanity. The Prophet caught them entering the Great Hall and tried following them in. They didn’t succeed, but the photos made it to the headline nevertheless. At least Draco’s tie matched her dress.

"Stop harassing her, Malfoy. We need her to agree to sign those papers for the Durmont case.”

Another voice, which of her current rescuer, triggered yet another response from her traitorous body. This time it was warm tingles that spread from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

"Come off it, Draco. I was just teasing," came the reply of the other male.

Before Draco could retort, Hermione turned around to face both men. A tiny gasp escaped her lips before she could control it. Who could blame her, though? Two of the most exquisite Aurors men stood before her, unaware of the full effect they both had on her system.

Draco wore the required red shirt, classic black pants and the requisite shiny Italian leather shoes. Blaise, on the other hand, chose a black shirt and accessorized with a red tie instead. Always the rebel, he tethered on the edge of semiformal by wearing dark jeans and attention grabbing bright red Chuck Taylor's. Both men before her represented a certain faction of the Aurors – dangerous, both on the field and on the female population. Judging by the nearly identical smirks on both their lips, they damn well knew it.

Hermione scowled. It was too early in the evening for either of them to be so annoying. Her train of thought was cut off when yet another high handed Auror caught her elbow and spun her around.

Harry pulled her into a tight hug before she could say another word. She breathed in his familiar scent of cedar wood and ink before pulling away. However, the tight circle of his arms allowed no more than a few inches between them.

"Glad you could make it, Hermione," he shot her that lopsided smile she loved so much. "I missed you."

She patted his arm twice, a gesture he knew meant that he should let go. Reluctantly, he did so.

"What? No hug for me? I got here first," Blaise opened his arms, a teasing glint in his eye.

Hermione laughed before wrapping her arms around him as well. Too soon, or far too long by Draco’s liking, Hermione let go of Blaise. Then she stood on her tiptoes, looking over both men's shoulders. Even in six inch heels, they towered over her.

"Who are you looking for, Granger?" Draco took hold of her left elbow as she almost toppled over.

"You wound us, Granger," Blaise cut in. "The two hottest Aurors are right in front of you yet your eyes search for someone else. Tell me who he is, Granger! If not Draco, tell me who else I have to defeat to garner your undivided attention!"

"Never knew you could be such a fine actor, Blaise," Harry teased as he pulled Hermione back on both feet.

"If you must know, I'm looking for Shacklebolt. I haven't seen him since I arrived."

"Why are you looking for the Minister?" Draco voiced out the question in the men’s minds.

"If you must know," Hermione huffed. "He sent an interdepartmental memo yesterday, wanting to confirm that I would be here tonight. I actually had other plans, but he made it near impossible to say no."

"Did he say why he specifically wanted you to come? Aside from you being one third of the Golden Trio and all."

"No idea," Hermione shrugged. "Said he wanted to speak with me about something important and didn't want to do it over the phone."

There came a moment of bewildered silence before it was broken by an elf apparating in front of Draco.

“Mister Malfoy, sir.”

Draco took the elf aside.

“He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?” Harry voiced out. “He and Blaise both have.”

“I’m right here, Potter.”

“All I’m saying is that you made the right decisions that night. We probably wouldn’t have won without you feeding us information from the inside.”

“Water under the bridge, Potter. Don’t mention it,” Blaise brushed him off. “I’m serious. Stop bringing it up. We were on the wrong side for far too long. A little bit of spying didn’t win you the war.”

“It didn’t,” Hermione cut in. “But it won a lot of battles that were otherwise impossible.”

She didn’t mean the actual war. Blaise and Harry understood perfectly.

\---

"Lady Greengrass is being late, Mister Malfoy," Twinkle, Astoria’s elf bowed low. “Lady Greengrass can’t find shoes for her dress, sir.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Draco nearly laughed at the stupidity of Astoria’s excuse this time. The vapid woman just wanted to make a grand entrance as always. “Thank you for informing me, Twinkle. You may go.”

He took a deep breath and looked back at where he stood with the others earlier. They were staring at him. Weird. He strode over to rejoin the group.

“Astoria’s late?”

“Can’t find shoes to match her dress,” he spat. “We bought that dress in Paris. The matching shoes, we bought in Italy.”

"Grand entrance?" Blaise shook his head. "Mate, I wouldn't be surprised if she was late to her own wedding!"

Blaise didn't particularly dislike Astoria. He simply thought she and Draco weren’t a good match. Nevertheless, it was a betrothal forged at birth. Unless one of them agrees to break it, it was ironclad.

The wedding comment seemed to have struck a chord in Draco. He looked at anywhere but the three of them, but only Blaise seemed privy to his discomfort. Hermione was too busy berating Harry about his latest mission, as evidenced by the slight limp in his strides.

"Let her be, Draco," Hermione heard his comment about the shoes and tried to make light of the situation. "Ever heard of the term 'fashionably late'? Trying to look good isn't an easy task, you know."

"Pssh! You’re never late to anything and always look stunning," Draco snorted. "You take half the time most girls need to get ready and manage to outshine even the best of them. Even with that bird’s nest you call hair."

The offhanded comment startled Hermione. Blaise’s gaze over her form told her he agreed.

"Erm," Harry was startled by the words that came out of Draco’s mouth and attempted to redirect the conversation. "Mione, Molly’s been looking for you. She asked me to bring you to her if I ever see you around."

"Oh?" Hermione snapped out of her conflicting thoughts. "Well, I better show up before she starts hunting."

She stood on her tiptoes again, this time to hug Blaise and Harry and wish them a Happy Christmas. She promised Harry she’d drop by Grimmauld Place sometime in the following week. Draco hooked her hand in his elbow as they made their way across the ballroom floor.

\---

"You okay?" Hermione timidly gauged Draco’s mood. It was never a good thing when he got irritated in the early hours of an event. He tended to end up doing the most ridiculous, if not embarrassing, things. And Astoria just loved aggravating him.

"I'll be fine," he squeezed her hand. "What's this I hear about you having other plans? I thought we agreed that you’d never leave me alone at a Ministry function ever again?”

“I had case notes-”

"Hermione, dear!" Molly Weasley cut off whatever excuse she was about to spew.

“Later,” Draco whispered.

“Good evening, Molly. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas, both of you!” she responded. “Now I understand the need to keep her to yourself, Draco, looking the way she does tonight. Absolutely ravishing. Red suits her, does it not? Gryffindor through and through. But if you could, release her so I can hug her properly."

Hermione’s eyes widened at the older woman's comment, a blush slowly staining her cheeks.

"You're right, Molly, she does look exceptionally beautiful tonight," Draco smiled down at Hermione, making her redden even more.

"Keep talking like that, Malfoy, and I'd think you were hitting on me," she teased, attempting to beat Draco at his own game. She quirked an eyebrow while he simply smirked.

Draco, not to be defeated, stepped closer until he was flush against Hermione.

"Break it up, you two," Molly cut in. “There are kids in attendance tonight.”

The two of them laughed at the older woman's comment. Since they appeared at that first Christmas party, Molly thought they made a wonderful couple and never let them, or anyone else for that matter, forget it.

"Anyway,” Molly took hold of Hermione’s elbow and tugged her away from Draco. "Kingsley is looking for you. I thought you'd appreciate the warning."

"I know, Molly,” Hermione nodded. "He sent a memo to confirm my attendance."

"What does the old coot possibly want with Granger?" Draco asked.

“Ministry matters,” Molly shrugged. "Arthur knows a few things, but even he can't claim what goes on in the Minister’s head.”

“How come-” Draco started to ask but Kingsley chose that moment to make his appearance.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Molly interrupted, gesturing behind the pair. "He's made his grand entrance and is coming this way."

Hermione and Draco turned to the direction of Molly’s fingers. Sure enough, the head of the British Wizarding World came striding towards them.

"Minister," Draco slightly bowed in greeting. "Happy Christmas."

"Draco. Molly, Happy Christmas," the man nodded in greeting. "Miss Granger, I appreciate you accepting my invitation tonight."

"The pleasure is mine, sir," Hermione replied nervously.

"Excuse me, kids, Minister," Molly cut in. "I'll see you around. Enjoy the party."

"And I think I hear Astoria," Draco turned towards the entrance on the other side of the room where a slight commotion had occurred. "I'll come find you later, okay? I have news to share."

Hermione could do nothing but nod.

\---

"Miss Granger, accompany me in making rounds?" The Minister offered an arm, one she could not refuse.

She kept to herself as they walked, only speaking when she was addressed directly. She wasn’t in the mood to be Hermione Granger, the War Heroine, tonight.

"Let's sit, Miss Granger," he gestured to the head table. "I imagine those shoes must not have been made for too much walking."

She spotted her name in between his and Harry’s. Typical.

"I don't usually do this, you know?" Kingsley started.

"Sir?"

"This," he gestured to her and the roved his eyes over the rest of the room. "Business during the holidays. Not since the War, at least.”

"Oh." _So this was a business meeting…_

"I don't," he reiterated. "But I leave for the States tomorrow and may not be able to return until just before the New Year rolls in. And I understand you are spending the holidays with your parents, yes?"

"I am, sir," she nodded timidly. Her parents were still in Australia, where they decided to stay after Hermione had found them and restored their memories. They invited her to spend the Christmas with them. Molly must have told him.

"I wanted to speak with you before we part ways. So you might be able to think about it over the next few days.” He looked at her to check if she was listening before continuing. "Harry had mentioned in passing that you are no longer happy in your current occupation. Was he speaking truth?"

Hermione understood his confusion. Everyone thought she was going to be an Auror because of the war or an advocate of other magical beings because of SPEW. But instead she had worked tooth and nail to land her position in the MLE. By the look on Kingsley’s face, he expected an answer to his question. An honest one at that.

"Yes, sir. I've already put in my two weeks’ notice. I plan on looking for a new job after the holidays."

"This is where I come in," he cleared his throat. "Do you know Travis Shire?”

"Yes, sir. Of course."

Travis Shire was the British Wizarding World’s liaison to Australia. He had been instrumental in Hermione’s search for her parents a few years back. Rumour has it that he was itching to come back to England since the end of the war.

"How would you like to do his job?"

"Sir?"

Surely he was kidding?

“Travis was an Auror first before becoming a bureaucrat,” Kingsley explained. “He lost his young wife and infant child in the First Wizarding War. When it was over, or so we thought, he begged to be transferred to Australia. He wanted to come back to Britain when there were reports of Voldemort rising from the dead, but the then Minister refused and had him banned from entering the country. Now that Voldemort is well and truly dead, he’s officially put in a transfer request.”

All of this was new to Hermione.   
  
“That being said, I have kept my eye on you. I know exactly how unhappy you have been in the MLE despite the outstanding praise from the Wizengamot. So I am offering you the post in Australia. I am offering you the chance to avoid any more... unhappiness."

By the way he spoke of the word, she was certain he knew the real reason why she quit. A reason she hasn't told neither Draco nor Harry yet. Or ever.

"Think about it, Miss Granger. And give me an answer hopefully after Christmas."

Kingsley stood to greet a guest who looked like he just arrived. Hermione remained in her seat, quietly mulling over what he just dropped on her. Should she go for it?

\---

"There you are!" Blaise’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her seat. "Been looking all over for you. I thought you’d have ditched the Minister’s table by now.”

"Blaise," she spoke timidly. "Where's Draco?"

"I'm not sure," Blaise scratched his head. "Last time I saw him, he was dragging Astoria to the balcony."

"Oh."

"You okay?"

"I am," she nodded. "It's just... I'm kinda overwhelmed. The Minister knows how to drop a bomb."

"Uh, bomb? Do we need to call in reinforcements? Are you sure it was the Minister? Maybe he was Imperio’d."

"Not that kind of bomb, Blaise,” she laughed nervously. “I meant he surprised me, that’s all. Do you know Travis Shire?”

Blaise’s eyes grew wide. He knew where Hermione was going with that question.

“Did you say yes?”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

He was quiet, probably thinking up excuses on why she can’t accept.

"Can't you-"

"No, Blaise. You of all people should know you can't do a liaison’s job as efficiently if you weren't physically there."

"But it's in Australia!" He whined. “That’s on an entirely different continent!”

“You could still send me owls, you know? And there’s a lot of means of transportation – both magical and muggle - if you really want to see me.”

“International floo travel and apparition are dangerous,” he continued protesting. “Flying a broom that large of the distance is tiring, and the process of getting an international portkey is a bitch! No, I’m not getting on that muggle flying contraption.”

“I know it’s hard-”

“Do Potter and Weasley know?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Ron’s in Wales for a match against the Welsh National Quidditch team. He won’t be back until Christmas Eve. Besides, I haven't fully decided yet. It hasn't even been an hour since the proposal was sprung on me. And this isn’t a decision anyone else but me can make.”

"But," Blaise opened his mouth to protest yet again. But the sound of someone clearing their throat on stage caught his attention. And everyone else's for that matter.

"Good evening," The Minister’s voice filled the hall. "I hope you're all enjoying the evening."

Hermione turned her focus to the man on the stage. Blaise took up the spot behind her, boldly resting one hand on her waist. She didn't shrink away, so he took that as a good sign.

"Right," Kingsley went on. "I interrupted your evening for a purpose. I have exciting news to share."

_Surely Kingsley wasn’t foolish enough to announce her change in job title before she’d even accepted, right?_ For a moment, Hermione panicked. Blaise felt her jump so he re-positioned his hand to her shoulders.

"Relax," he whispered, kneading her shoulder blades lightly.

"We’re getting married!" Astoria nearly pushed Kingsley off the stage as she made her announcement.

Hermione froze. Blaise’s hands stilled.

"Draco, baby. Come up here with me."

At first the crowd was as stunned as Blaise and Hermione were. But as soon as one person clapped, the whole room erupted in applause and well wishes.

Hermione suddenly felt lightheaded. She needed to get out of there, fast.

"I think I need some air," she stepped out of Blaise’s hold and started for the balcony.

"Granger," he called out but she sped away. Gathering his wits about him, he followed her just to make sure she was alright.

Draco wanted to wring Astoria’s neck. Her father had cornered him the other night insisting that a wedding be done before summer. Draco was stupid enough to say he was going to propose soon. Astoria obviously knew and beat him to the punch. She wore her mother’s ring and nearly took Kingsley’s temporary command of the room to make the announcement to an engagement that hasn’t even happened. He craned his neck above the crowd, eyes searching for the one person he was most apprehensive to share the news with. He finally spotted Hermione making her way towards the balcony. Was it bad to hope she hadn’t heard? Fat chance.

What confused him though was Blaise following after her. Before he went through the balcony doors, he looked back to the stage and threw Draco a dark look. What the hell is going on?

"Drakey?" Astoria’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts. "Your mother’s coming this way."

\---

"Hey," Blaise called out to Hermione as he stepped into the night.

She was standing on a corner of the balcony, illuminated only by the glow of her wand. He shuffled closer, wrapping his coat around her bare shoulders. She was absently tracing her fingers over the scars on her left arm.

Blaise didn't speak, knowing fully well she needed to process recent events. When she did, he found himself stunned for the second (third?) time that evening.

"I'm taking The Minister’s offer. I'm moving to Australia."

\---

**TBC**


	2. Of Honor TWO

_Recap:_

_"_ _I'm taking The Minister’s offer. I'm moving to Australia."_

_x_

**_JANUARY_ **

Hermione had a headache. And it wasn’t even lunch time. She shouldn’t have gone to work today. She dropped her pocket mirror last night, breaking it clean in half. Then this morning, her phone. The metal case had a tiny dent on one side from hitting side of the bathroom sink. Why did she even think it was a good idea to check for messages in the bathroom? Because one, her phone currently only worked in there as she hadn’t gotten around fixing the rest of her flat to accommodate Muggle electronics. And two, she’s an idiot. The wizard whom she was currently waiting to hear from preferred owls and floo calls. She still couldn’t fathom why he bought a cell phone if he was going to badger her over green flames anyway. 

The moment Hermione stepped into the lobby of the Australian Ministry, she was bombarded with memos from various departments. The steaming cup of tea on her office desk was her saving grace. Now she only need to make it till 5 PM.

"Miss Granger?" a soft voice squeaked from intercom on her desk. Surprisingly, the Australian Wizarding Community was very open to integrating Muggle inventions in their daily lives; hence, the office phone and intercom. _Britain’s probably one of the few countries left behind in the dark ages,_ she surmised.

"Yes, Anya?"

"There's someone here to see you," her assistant continued. "He doesn't have an appointment but he says you'll see him anyway."

"Did he at least say who he is?" Days like this, Hermione wished Anya was much more confident.

"He won't- Hey!" It sounded like someone tried to overpower her assistant. By the next voice that spoke, that someone succeeded.

"Let me in, Granger."

"Malfoy?"

"The one and only, babe," he chuckled. "Are you going to let me in? Or should I annoy your PA a bit longer? How can she not recognize me anyway?"

"Malfoy, stop harassing Anya," Hermione scolded sternly. "Please."

She added the last bit as an afterthought. A short bout of silence later, Anya spoke again.

"Miss Granger?"

"Let him through," Hermione instructed her. "And for future reference, his name is Draco Malfoy."

A small gasp confirmed that Anya finally recognized the name. Hermione’s door flew open. Draco strode in, followed by an apologetic Anya.

"I apologize again for not recognizing you, Mr. Malfoy. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"That's definitely a first for me. Anya, is it?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Better remember this name and face, sweetheart," he smirked at her. "I have a feeling you'll be seeing quite a lot of me from now on."

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

"Come to think of it. Be a dear and cancel all of Miss Granger’s appointments for the day. I'm kidnapping her."

"Malfoy!" Hermione started protesting. "I can't just up and leave-"

"Make that the entire weekend, Anya," he threw both ladies a huge grin. "Tell whoever asks that I've taken her with me back to Britain for an emergency meeting."

"Draco-" Hermione protested again on deaf ears.

He smiled at the sound of his first name on her lips. He was ‘Malfoy’ on a normal day, ‘Draco’ when she was weary of him. Or compliant. He walked around her to her desk, shuffling through the various papers scattered there. He gathered those he thought she'd need over the weekend and left the rest.

"Anya, no. I'm not going anywhere," Hermione shot a glare over her shoulder at a smirking Draco. "Not today, not this weekend."

"Better listen to me, Anya love," Draco teased. "I can be right pain in the arse when I don’t get my way. Also, I used to be a Death Eater."

Anya's face paled a bit, but enough to make Hermione go from annoyed to angry.

"Malfoy! You want me to come with you?" Hermione spun to face him. "Fine. I'll come with you."

She stalked towards him, face flushed with anger. Hermione looked so fiercely beautiful at that moment that Draco couldn't help but stare.

"But leave," she snatched the papers he still held in his hand. "My assistant out of this. And stop bringing up being a Death Eater to bully people into listening to you. It’s no joking matter!"

"I'm sorry," Draco held up both hands in surrender. "No more Death Eater jokes. Sheesh! Your boss lady is mighty protective of you, Anya. You play Quidditch? You got a Keeper right here."

"You have no idea, Mr. Malfoy," the girl readily agreed. Anya turned to the boss she was directly taking orders from, to find her with an unreadable expression on her face. "Miss Granger?"

"Ah, yes," Hermione snapped out of her thoughts as the sound of Anya's questioning voice. "Unless we've both forgotten, I've no pressing issues to deal with in the next few days?"

Anya nodded her head in confirmation.

"Good," Hermione nodded, eyes trained on Draco as he went through the items on her desk. "Do you have plans for the weekend?"

"None, Miss Granger.”

“Have you ever been to the UK?”

“N-no,” Anya stuttered, clearly surprised at what her boss was hinting at.

"Great! Because Malfoy did say he's taking me back to Britain for an emergency meeting. I've decided you're coming with me. You are my assistant after all."

Draco looked up at both women at the sound of his name. One looked at him with awestruck wonder, the other with undisguised ire. He always loved keeping Hermione Granger on her toes.

"Take the rest of the morning off, Anya," Draco beamed at the wide-eyed assistant. "I'm dragging Hermione home to pack some stuff. You should do the same. We'll meet you back here in an hour. Bring enough to last till Monday. Not everything has to be wizarding though, one formal set of robes will do."

A nod of dismissal from a frowning Hermione later, Anya was out the door.

"Why are you really here, Malfoy?"

"What? Can't I get some quality time with one of my closest friends without having to make an appointment? Or face an inquisition?"

There was an underlying bite of anger in Draco’s voice that Hermione knew was not unfounded.

"I've hardly seen you since November. Then you had to go and move to another country? I know you had your reasons, Potter hinted as much. But for the life of me, I can't understand why you won't tell me. I just want to know why, Granger. That's all I ask."

"Draco," She sighed, dropping herself onto her office couch. She pinched the bridge of her nose, recognizing the telltale signs of an impending migraine. "You-"

"Miss Granger?" Anya's voice rang clear once again through the phone. "I've moved your calendar around to free up your schedule until Monday at noon. I've also sent a memo to the rest of the department that you’ll be overseas this weekend.”

"Thank you, Anya." The girl might be clueless at times, but she was damn well efficient.

"If you've nothing more you'd like me to do, I'm thinking of heading out now? Unless, you'd like me to stay behind?"

"Yes. I mean, no." Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. "What I meant to say is that, yes you can go. I'll see you back here in an hour."

"I'll see you in half an hour, Miss Granger." Like Hermione, Anya always took half the time necessary to prepare. Even for spur of the moment events.

"Later, Anya."

"Well, Granger?" asked a now stone-faced Draco Malfoy.

"I-"

"Miss Granger," Anya's voice interrupted her yet again. This time she knocked on Hermione’s office door before pulling it open just enough for her voice to float through clearly. "The main receptionist just informed me that Mr Zabini’s in the Ministry and is on his way here. Should I let him through?"

"I'll take care of Blaise," Hermione sighed. "Go home and sort your stuff. I'll see you later."

_Two Slytherins in one morning! What are the odds, right?_

"Blaise?" Draco asked, walking from the desk to sit himself down beside Hermione on the couch. "My partner, Blaise?"

"Apparently," Hermione groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Look, Draco, Harry’s right. I do have my reasons. And I will tell you about them, I promise. Just not today, okay?"

Draco gently lifted Hermione’s head away from her hands. He took a long searching look at her face. Judging by the slight twitching of her left eye, she was stressed out.

"Granger-"

"Hermione!" Blaise’s voice could be heard beyond the closed office door. Startled, Hermione jumped to her feet and away from Draco. She wrenched the door open just as Blaise’s hand was reaching for the handle.

"Hey," she smiled at him weakly. "What are you doing here?"

"What?" he grinned in response. "I came all the way here from London just to see my girlfriend. Can't I at least take her out to lunch?"

"You're cute," Hermione blushed.

"Girlfriend?" Draco asked at the same time.

"Draco?" Blaise looked up from his stare down with Hermione to come face to face with his partner in the British Auror Department. "What are you doing here? Last I checked, this isn't Wiltshire."

"I could ask you the same question, Zabini," Draco shot back. "Aren't you supposed to be in Milan?"

"Okay," Hermione spoke up from between the two males. They were starting a pissing contest that made no sense. About time she stepped in before it gets worse. "Back up, both of you. Come in, Blaise. Malfoy, go park your butt back on the couch."

Chastised, both men followed Hermione’s soft but stern instructions. They sat on opposite sides of the couch, with Hermione perched on the edge of her desk.

"Now, where were we?"

"Girlfriend?"

"Babe-"

"One at a time,” Hermione held up a hand to silence both men. “First off, why are either of you even on this continent?”

"Granger-"

"Hermione-"

"Okay stop," Hermione stopped them again. "By order or arrival. Malfoy, you first."

"I wasn't lying. There really is a meeting I need you to attend back in London. Only, it isn't official Ministry business. Itsforthewedding."

Draco mumbled the last part in a rush that Hermione wasn't sure she heard it correctly. Did he say wedding?

"Repeat that last part? Slowly, this time."

Draco let out a big sigh, "It's a meeting for the wedding."

"Oh," she did hear him correctly. Her mood darkened just a smidge before turning to Blaise. "And you?"

"I was in the neighbourhood-," he started.

"Cut the BS, Blaise. I can feel a migraine forming already. You won't like me when I have a headache."

"Okay, okay," Blaise held both palms up. "You're cute when you're mad but we don't want to risk your health. I'm here is because I know about the meeting. Astoria owled me at an ungodly hour this morning and made me promise I'd do anything in my power to make sure you're there. She needs you for some reason, but wouldn’t say why.

"Oh."

"So Draco," Blaise turned to his partner. "If Astoria owled me to make sure Hermione makes it, what are you really doing here?"

"Same as you. But I didn't know she already owled you.”

"It was around 4 in the morning when she owled me. Aren't the two of you sleeping in the same bed?"

“Merlin, no!” Draco shook his head vigorously. “Well, not all the time. I stopped appreciating old traditions, but this just about saved my sanity.”

Blaise roared with laughter. He was laughing so hard that Hermione herself couldn't help grinning. Draco stuck his tongue out at the both of them.

“If you two are done laughing at my expense, I have a portkey waiting for us. Wait a minute. Blaise, how did you get here?”

“Same as you,” Blaise shrugged. “Portkey.”

“International portkeys from Britain to Australia pass through my desk,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at both men. “I didn’t see an application from either of you.”

“I went straight to the Australian Minister,” Draco shrugged at the same time Blaise answered, “Kingsley loves me.”

These two Slytherins were going to be the death of her!

“Where’s your floo?” Draco looked around her office.

“I don’t have my own floo. I use the one in the lobby. What do you need a floo for?”

 “Getting your stuff. Or do you prefer apparating?”

“Not really. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Blaise stood up and hauled Draco to his feet. “Let’s leave the boss lady to her work.”

\---

Hermione reorganized the desk Draco ransacked on his arrival and took with her the papers she needed to review over the weekend. She locked her office up and headed for the lifts. Draco and Blaise must have spotted her from the lobby and ran up to catch her.

“Where do you live?” Draco asked Hermione.

Blaise walked ahead and hailed a cab. He helped Hermione into the car, like he’d been doing that his entire life, making Draco growl in displeasure.

“Why are we taking a Muggle car?” Draco whispered. “Don’t you live in a Wizarding building?”

“Shh,” Blaise elbowed him on the side.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Draco was curious as to how Blaise knew just where Hermione lived. Had he been there before?

Hermione handed him a slip of paper as they exited the car. They walked a few paces from where the cab dropped them off and stopped in front of a seemingly empty lot. The house materialized in front of them as Draco was memorizing Hermione’s address. They walked up the path to a quaint house, white picket fence and all the works.

“Honey, I’m home!”

 A Jack Russell Terrier puppy came bounding into the entrance hall at the sound of Blaise’s voice. Blaise crouched down to play with him, temporarily forgetting about his two companions.

“What happened to Crookshanks?” Draco asked incredulously.

“He died in November,” there was a slight tremor in Hermione’s voice. “That’s why I wasn’t up to much company then. I was too distraught at losing Crooks.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco empathized with the girl. No matter how ugly the half-cat/half-kneazle was, it was her familiar

“I hated seeing her sad,” Blaise stood back up with the puppy in his arms. “So I bought her this puppy as a going away gift. She refused to get another cat. Draco, meet Honey.”

He held out one of the puppy’s paws at a bewildered Draco.

“How do you know where Granger lives?” The creases on Draco’s forehead deepened. “Don’t answer that. It’s probably none of my business. But you two are being… safe?”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Hermione shrieked, exasperated. She left the two men standing in her living room while she packed a bag of clothes enough for the weekend. A few minutes later, a smirking Blaise came into her room uninvited.

“Don’t close the door. Draco might get the wrong idea.”

“Let him,” Blaise chuckled, locking the door behind him for good measure. “He already you’re sleeping with me. Look, I have a proposal for you.”

“You sound like a really bad romance novel,” she frowned at him. “Be useful and pass me that makeup bag on the table behind you.”

“You don’t need this,” he commented. “No, but listen. Everyone, with the exception of my totally oblivious partner, knows you’re totally in love with him.”

“I am not!” she defended. Blaise stared at her until she visibly deflated and half lied on the bed, arm flung across her eyes. “I’m so screwed.”

“Here’s where the cliché romance novel antagonist Blaise Zabini comes in,” he pulled her up to a sitting position and knelt in front of her. “Allow me the honour of being your fake boyfriend?”

Hermione’s face went from stunned to bewildered, before breaking into righteous laughter.

“Are you done?” Blaise asked, still kneeling. “My legs are cramping.”

“You’re a riot, Blaise,” Hermione was wiping tears from her eyes. “Trashy romance novel indeed.”

“I’m not kidding, Granger,” he was completely serious now. “This wedding is gonna be a nightmare, I can see it already. And you’ll be in the thick of it, being Draco’s friend and all. You’ll definitely be part of the entourage. The last thing you need is being asked why you aren’t the bride.”

 “Blaise…”

“Look at it this way, Hermione. I can keep you entertained while Draco’s off playing doting groom to be. When Astoria becomes bridezilla, I can keep you sane. Most of all, I can help you get your mind off the fact that the love of your life is marrying someone else.”

“First of all,” Hermione counted off on her fingers. “Draco is NOT the love of my life.”

“You called him Draco,” he smirked.

“So I’m in love with him,” she huffed. “Big deal. He’s getting married. Second, your plan is completely see through. No one’s going to believe we’re together, especially not Malfoy. Lastly, the Prophet might finally have proof that I’m nothing but a gold digger.”

“You’re a what? Who’s been saying that? It’s Skeeter, isn’t it? I swear to Merlin, Hermione Granger, I will maim-“

“Not the point, Blaise. I can’t do that – pretend. I can’t lie to Draco.”

“Then don’t. We just act like a couple, and skirt around the question when someone asks. You won’t be lying to Draco, not inadvertently.”

“This is gonna bite us in the behind so hard,” Hermione sighed, giving in. “I blame you.”

The grin on Blaise’s face was infectious. He pulled Hermione into a hug just as Draco knocked on the door.

“You two done in there? We need to get going.”

Hermione hurriedly packed the rest of her stuff. Blaise mussed up her hair before exiting her bedroom.

“Let’s go,” Draco noticed the messy do and scowled, thinking the worst.

\---

“You okay, Anya?” Draco asked from across her. “Do you need anything else before we go?”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy. And no, thank you.”

“Granger? Need anything?”

“It’s Britain, Draco. I used to live there.”

“Just trying to be nice,” he grumbled. “If you need anything, Anya, let me know. Oh, and I put you in the room across Hermione’s. I hope that’s alright?”

“What room?” Hermione cut in. “Draco, you got me room at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Of course not,” Draco scoffed. “I had the elves set up rooms in the Manor.”

“You didn’t have to, right? We can always bunk in with Harry.”

“Or they could have stayed with me.”

“I know,” was the last thing Draco said to anyone for the rest of the trip.

A tug behind the navel later, all four of them were standing in the British Ministry. Blaise had to step away as soon as they arrived in the lobby.

“Duty calls,” was his way of explanation. “See you later, babe?”

“Babe?” Hermione whispered. “Seriously?”

Blaise chuckled and dropped a kiss on her forehead before leaving.

“Let’s go,” Draco finally spoke as soon as Blaise left. “We’ll floo from here.”

The arrived in a swirl of green smoke in the reception room on Malfoy Manor.

“Astoria and my mother are in the gardens. You know the way. I’ll come find you in an hour or so. Have fun.”

He kissed her the same way Blaise did.

“Miss Granger?” Anya asked, unsure of what they were supposed to do next.

“I guess we’re meeting Astoria and Narcissa. Come on. Oh, and welcome to Malfoy Manor.”

An elf appeared just as they exited the room. He guided them through the winding halls of the Manor, for Anya’s sake. The girl looked around with child-like wonder. The Manor had been renovated following the war. It was impressive, Hermione could admit that much. Lesser dark and gloomy corners. The elf directed them to a gazebo in the gardens where Narcissa and Astoria were taking tea.

“You made it!” Astoria jumped up to hug Hermione, much to her surprise. Very uncharacteristic for the airheaded princess.

Hermione reluctantly returned the hug. “This is Anya, my secretary. Malfoy told me there was an emergency meeting so I brought her along. But this isn’t a business meeting, is it?”

“No, silly!” Astoria giggled. Five minutes with her, and she was already getting on Hermione’s nerves. “This is a meet and greet for my wedding!”

“Meet and greet?”

“Uh huh,” she giggled, again. “The other bridesmaids are coming in a few, but I wanted you here first because I wanted to ask you something.”

Hermione had a bad feeling about this.

“Hermione Granger, will you be my Maid of Honor?”

Crap. She really shouldn’t have gone to work today.

\---

**TBC**


	3. Of Honor THREE

_Recap:_

_“Hermione Granger, will you be my Maid of Honor?”_

_xxx_

_FEBRUARY_

Hermione was woken up by the incessant ringing of her phone. This is one of those times she regrets finally enabling Muggle electronics to work in her house. She fumbled around in the dark till her fingertips felt the device near the edge of her bed.

_That’s weird,_ she thought, staring at the dark screen of her phone.

She was about to pass it off as a dream when the ringing started again. It was coming from her living room, specifically her fireplace. As much as she wanted to ignore it, it might be an emergency. Or what qualifies as an emergency in her job, at least. She got out of bed reluctantly and slipped on a robe before heading out of her bedroom.

“Cold, cold, cold,” she practically sprinted to pick up the phone, casting a warming charm along the way. She waved her wand at the empty grate, allowing the floo call to come through. “Hello?”

“Ms Granger,” one of the night guards at the Australian Ministry spoke quietly. “A certain Mr Malfoy attempted flooing to your residence and was rerouted to the Ministry.”

“Mike, stop clowning. Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I wish I were,” he laughed. “I’m sending him through. Don’t want him straying around alone too long. We’re lucky it’s a quiet night.”

“Thank you. Wait, did he say… never mind. Good night.” She wanted to ask if Draco told him why he was trying to floo to her home but decided it didn’t matter. Since that morning in January, neither Blaise nor Draco had left her alone. It was beginning to get annoying.

“Hi,” a drunk Draco came stumbling into her living room. “You look good in red. Very Gryffindor. But I like you better in my colours.”

If Hermione hadn’t been holding on to him, he would’ve fallen flat. He was heavy, but she’s had practice. It wasn’t the first she’d handled a drunk Draco. They’ve become friends after all, best friends almost. She practically dragged him across the house into the guest bedroom.

“Up you go,” she deposited him on the bed. “Can you manage from here?”

He snored in response.

“Guess not,” She took both his shoes and his socks off and tossed them in the corner. “You better be wearing something underneath those trousers, mister, or I swear to God I’ll leak that video of you pole dancing.”

Again, this wasn’t new to her. There was that one time Draco decided on going commando and got absolutely pissed. Let’s just say she wasn’t too happy with him for giving her an unexpected eyeful. She’d been careful ever since, always slipping a finger beneath the hem of his pants first to feel for boxers. Thanking all her stars that he was wearing proper underwear, Hermione undid his belt and pulled his pants off. All of this sounded so sexual, yet so normal. She removed his dress shirt next, followed by the undershirt. She yanked the blanket up to his chin and headed back to her room.

_xxx_

Draco woke up feeling like someone was drilling a hole in his skull with a jackhammer. He sat up and looked around. He doesn’t recognize the furniture of the bedroom he was currently in. Did he break one of his golden rules and allowed someone to take him home? He wasn’t too sure. Upon wandering out of the room, he found the answer in the form of a 5 foot 4 brunette standing in front of the stove.

“If I didn’t see my shirt earlier,” his voice made Hermione jump. “I’d have thought you took advantage of my inebriated state.”

She turned around to see Draco was smirking at her, eyes running her over from head to toe. What a sight she must have been! Messy hair, bare face, tank top, sleep shorts and bare feet. She wasn’t even wearing a bra! She stopped herself from crossing her arms across her chest. The less attention drawn to her braless state, the better.

“Good morning,” he grinned at her. “You look nice. Very natural.”

If she hadn’t cracked all the eggs from the fridge, she definitely would have thrown one at him. _The eggs!_ She turned back to the stove to remove the pan from the burner.

“Can you maybe get dressed or something?”

“I could say the same about you,” Draco padded closer to Hermione until he was standing right behind her. His breath warmed the back of her neck. “I could get used to this, you know? Waking up to a hot breakfast and an even hotter wife.”

There was a slight pinch in Hermione’s heart.

“You have house elves,” she dished out the eggs and dropped bacon into the pan. “You could always go home. Or you could ask Astoria to cook for you. She’s going to be your wife pretty soon.”

“Astoria doesn’t cook,” you could hear the pout in his voice. “Not unless you qualify ordering house elves around as cooking. Why haven’t we ever dated?”

The pinch became a squeeze.

“We tried, remember?” Hermione had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. “You took me out on a pity date because Oliver Wood took me home after one of those idiotic Ministry balls subsequently dumped me the next morning.”

Oh, he remembered all right. Draco walked into the Aurors’ meeting room that morning to hear Wood bragging to his friends about making Hermione scream. He was the one screaming when Draco and Blaise were done with him. They nearly got suspended for it, but it was worth every punch and hex thrown. Also because Harry heard the tail end of Oliver’s rant and wanted to hex him as well. He just backed up Draco and Blaise instead when they were reprimanded. That weekend, Draco side-apparated Hermione to his family’s chateau in France. They’ve been travelling together every weekend since, even if they did decide that they were better off as just friends. Draco’s had many excursions with Hermione, that weekend being the most memorable.

“It wasn’t a pity date,” he grumbled. “You didn’t want me, plain and simple.”

“I never said that!” she protested. “I said we were good at friendship but terrible at dating. I could never keep up with you.”

There was a slightly awkward bout of silence that followed. Draco stepped back to give Hermione some breathing space. She continued cooking while he set the table. They’ve done this dance countless times.

“I need to get back to London,” Draco expressed between bites of blueberry pancakes. “I have a briefing at eight.”

“Had,” Hermione corrected him. “It’s past nine.”

“What?!”

“It was nearly eight when I woke up,” she shrugged. “I’d already managed to hit the pool before cooking breakfast. More coffee?”

Draco handed her his mug as he shoveled bacon and eggs in his mouth.

“Slow down!” She handed him her phone. “You can use my phone. Unfortunately, you can’t use my floo for international travel.”

“I’ll call Potter later,” he waved her phone away. “You off today?”

“And tomorrow,” Hermione shrugged. “I already committed Sundays to Astoria, though. Wedding stuff.”

“Downfall of being the Maid of Honor,” Draco grimaced. “Hey, I really am sorry she sprung that on you. It’s not too late to back out, you know?”

“It’s fine, Malfoy,” she stared at him above the rim of her coffee mug. “It’s your wedding. It’s not like I can be best man, right?”

“If only,” he sighed. “I knew this wedding sh!t was crazy, I just didn’t realize how much.”

“Poor baby,” she laughed.

Draco came flooing again the following Friday night.

As well as the week after that.

And the week after that.

The Australian Minister caught wind of his visits and automatically rerouted Draco from the Ministry to her fireplace.

For the next five weekends, Draco turned up drunk in Hermione’s living room. Every time he appeared, Hermione would drag him to the spare room, undress him, and cook him breakfast the next morning.

By the third morning, she knew he was avoiding something… or someone. She had a suspicion who but never voiced it out. Besides, she met with Astoria every Sunday and the bride-to-be has never mentioned a missing fiancé.

_xxx_

_MARCH_

“Is he awake?” Blaise asked when he called to check up on her. (Yes, called. He caved in to Hermione’s request for him to get a Muggle phone. She’s yet to convince Draco.) Hermione had Blaise on speakerphone since she was cooking breakfast. “This is what, the sixth weekend he’s turned up?”

“Seventh,” she corrected him. “I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.”

“Keep what up?”

“This,” she stabbed a pancake for emphasis. “Lying to Astoria. She finally snapped last weekend. Something along the lines of being the only one interested in this wedding. I couldn’t very well tell her that her fiancé has been coming round to my part of the world to avoid wedding plans. Oh, and he hangs around the house half naked most of the weekend! I can just imagine how that conversation would go down.”

“You say it like you and Draco are doing the nasty,” Blaise scoffed. “You aren’t, are you?”

“Of course not!” Hermione said indignantly. “You know I don’t condone cheating.”

“I know, I know. But you’re right. That’s how it’s going to come across, isn’t it?”

There was a shuffling behind Hermione before a warmth covered her back.

“Morning,” Draco mumbled into her neck. “What time did I get home last night?”

“Uhm,” Hermione was temporarily rendered speechless. _Home. He said home, right?_

“Good morning, cousin,” Blaise’s voice was loud and stern. “Haven’t seen you home in a while. Been busy with my girlfriend?”

Draco released his hold on Hermione and snatched her phone off the counter. He took it off speaker while he walked away with it, having a whispered conversation with Blaise.

“That’s my phone,” Hermione called after him. “Draco, that’s my phone!”

Not that he paid her any mind. Hermione shrugged before turning back to the stove, making sure the bacon was extra crispy. Just like Draco liked it.

“Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry,” she shouted at the direction the balcony where Draco headed off to earlier. “I’m headed out for a quick dip.”

_xxx_

“You coming?” Hermione knocked on the door of Draco’s room. “I’m heading to the pool.”

There was a community pool near Hermione’s house that she took full advantage of. So in addition to Draco appearing in her living room drunk on Friday nights, Saturday morning swims had also become routine. Yet another thing Hermione felt guilty about.

Swimming offered a certain peace for Hermione, more effective than the countless hours of therapy she was subjected to after the War. Not to mention, a cheaper alternative. Today, though, Hermione lost count of how many laps she swam. She was too preoccupied with how she was going to convince Draco to show a bit more enthusiasm in his own wedding.

_Speak of the devil,_ she thought as her lifted her head above water. Draco was standing on the opposite side of the pool. He crooked a finger, beckoning her to come closer. Hermione streamed through the water towards him.

“Blaise called. He said he’ll be coming to see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I need to call him back. I won’t be in the city tomorrow. Where’s your wand?”

“Left it in my room. No pockets,” he patted the slacks her wore.

_His room? When did the guest room become HIS room? Quite presumptuous, isn’t he?_

“Help me out,” Hermione extended a hand to him.

Draco reached out to her… and was promptly pulled in headfirst into the cold water, clothes and all.

“You little minx!” he spluttered when he finally found his water legs.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. She recognized the mischievous glint in his eye, having sported it herself before pulling him in. True enough, Draco lunged for her. They spent the better part of the morning submerged in the water.

On the first morning they spent together in the water, Hermione considered it a lucky coincidence that no one decided to spend their time swimming that day. Draco didn’t put much stock in luck. After all, he paid an exorbitant amount of money to close down the pool for “maintenance”. Hermione figured it out the following week, but let the guy have his way. After all, the privacy was nice. No one to go blabbing about where they spotted Draco Malfoy.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Draco grumbled as they walked to Hermione’s house. He was still dripping wet since Hermione didn’t bring her wand with her either.

“Give me your clothes,” she ordered when they finally made it back to her house. “I’ll toss them in the wash.”

“He’d just handed her his shirt when the fireplace glowed a bright green and out stepped a a very astonished Astoria and a mortified Ministry employee.

_xxx_

“Hi, can you help me?” Astoria batted her eyelashes at the young Ministry employee. Being a pretty blonde had its uses at times, this being one of them.

“Welcome to the Department of International Magical Cooperation!” The young man behind the desk beamed at her. “How may I assist?”

“I’m a friend of Hermione. Hermione Granger, British liaison to Australia? I understand she currently works in Sydney. I would like access to her floo.”

“My apologies, Miss?”

“Astoria Greengrass.”

“Miss Greengrass,” he smiled at her despite refusing her request. “I’m afraid that is a request I can not grant.”

Astoria was prepared for this. She pulled out a photo and a vial from the pocket of her robes.

“Look,” she shoved the photo in his face. “We’re friends, see? And you can check my memories.”

“I’m really sorry-”

“I’m engaged to someone very important,” Marie pulled out the big guns. “Draco Malfoy. Recognize the name?”

The employee’s eyes widened in fear.

“Hermione is my Maid of Honor. I’m dropping off her dress. Either you give me access to her floo is or I go straight to the Minister, tell him how unhelpful you are.”

“There’s no need for that, Miss Greengrass,” he attempted to appease Astoria. “I can only have someone escort you to the Australian Ministry. But Miss Granger is out for the weekend…

“No,” Astoria stood her ground. “This dress is one of a kind and costs more than your annual salary. This either goes straight to her closet or you say goodbye to your job. What will it be?”

“If you could follow me, Miss Greengrass,” The receptionist reluctantly led Astoria to the grates. Of course, the Minister’s opinion carries more weight than the War Heroine. He pays her salary, not her. “I’ll have someone escort you to the Ministry and Miss Granger’s flat.”

The Ministry escort was nervously tugging on the hem of his robes as they went through clearance in the Australian Ministry. Astoria felt slightly bad for him, forced between a rock and a hard place. She thought to apologize, but the gesture disappeared as quickly as it came. For there in the Hermione Granger’s living room was a shirtless Draco Malfoy.

“Somebody explain to me why my fiancé is hiding out naked in some other woman’s house?”

\---

**TBC**

 


	4. Of Honor FOUR

_Recap:_

“ _Somebody explain to me why my fiancé is hiding out naked in some other woman’s house?”_

_xxx_

_APRIL_

She was reading through some paperwork sent over by the British Ministry when her phone pinged an incoming message.

**Blaise: Heads up. Narcissa is headed your way.**  
**Brielle: What?! Why?!**  
 **Ryland: Astoria**  
 **Brielle: I’m dead!**  
 **Ryland: I’ll bring the flowers to your funeral. You like roses, right?**

Hermione wanted to smack Blaise. Normally, she’d go along with his jokes. Except today. Nope. She’d already received an earful from Astoria that morning she discovered Draco in her house. Now the Malfoy matriarch was coming to her office.

“Miss Granger?” One of the receptionists on the DIMC had sought her out. “A Lady Malfoy is here and is requesting you to accompany her for tea.”

Here goes nothing. Hermione wondered if she should inform the Australian Minister of her plans today. Or maybe she could send Kingsley a Patronus. Harry, too, just to cover all her bases.

Lunch was… tense. Or maybe that was just Hermione. She had been conversing with Narcissa about the most non-consequential things for the past hour. They were staying more on the topic of her stay in Australia than anything. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, anticipating the shift in topic to what Astoria dubs as Draco’s indiscretion.

It wasn’t even that bad! Astoria was totally exaggerating in claiming that Draco was walking around naked in her living room. Shirtless isn’t the same as being full on naked. Besides, they’d just come up to her suite from their morning swim. Astoria didn’t expect him to swim fully clothed, did she? Then again, she didn’t expect him to be swimming with Hermione in Sydney either. He was supposed to be pulling long hours at the Ministry that weekend. And he was “on a mission in Scotland” the weekend before that. And meeting with a potential business partner for Malfoy Enterprises in the States the weekend prior.

Okay, so maybe Astoria does have a reason to be mad.

“How are the preparations for the wedding going?” Hermione’s internal justification was interrupted by the seemingly innocent question.

“Uhm…”

“Astoria isn’t the brightest crayon in the room, is she?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You may be a War Heroine, Miss Granger,” Narcissa giggled. “But I am a Malfoy. And I am also Draco’s mother. I know everything that has anything to do with my son.”

“Lady Malfoy,” Hermione swallowed thickly. “Astoria has it all wrong. Draco and I-“

“Are very good friends,” she interrupted her. “I’m aware. Very good friends indeed. And please, Narcissa will do.”

Narcissa went back to sipping her tea. That was the first and last time Astoria became the topic of their conversation. Hermione was left confused, and just a tiny bit relieved.

***

“Ivory,” Astoria decided. “I want ivory for the place settings. They’ll set off the emerald perfectly. Don’t you agree?”

“I think so?” came Pansy’s response. “Shouldn’t you be asking Granger? She is your MOH after all. Where is she anyway?”

_Probably shacking up with my fiancé,_ Astoria thought. But Pansy didn’t need to know that. Nobody needs to know. “She has a work do this weekend. And the timezone difference has been wearing her down, the poor thing. I can’t have her looking like a zombie on my wedding day. She shall do what she can on her side of the world for time being.”

Astoria dragged Pansy along to all the wedding appointments she had for the day. She had to admit that Hermione has more valuable input, but was less enthusiastic. Now she understood why.

It had been two weeks since she caught Draco and Hermione together. Not together _together_ , but still scandalous enough to want to cancel the wedding right there and then. Instead, Astoria tossed the one of a kind dress onto the nearest couch and dragged her half naked fiancé out of Hermione’s house. She hasn’t spoken to ‘the Traitor’ since.

Astoria had half a mind to smite Hermione off the entourage and replace her with someone more… trustworthy. But in the end had decided not to. She wasn’t giving the witch the satisfaction of knowing she’d won.

“Draco?” Astoria called out as she entered the Manor. “Are you home?”

A tiny black streak barreled into her left shin.

“Hi Princess,” she cooed at the Chihuahua as she picked it up. “Is Daddy home?”

Making her way from the foyer to Draco’s wing, she noticed that everything was just as she left it this morning. Including the now cold cup of tea she had the elves lay out for Draco for when he woke up. No doubt her bed would be just as cold tonight. 

Sure enough, an elf informed her that Draco was working late and would most probably crash on a sofa in the Auror’s lounge. Astoria could count on one hand the number of times Draco actually came home since she dragged him out of Sydney. Then again, it was nothing new. Draco had a habit of working too hard. He was either sleeping at the Ministry or on a mission in Merlin knows where.

Astoria knew this even when she met him. She knew he was a workaholic when she fell in love with him. She knew this when she said yes when he got down on one knee. She always fancied herself the girl who could break him out of his all-work-no-play routine. Castles in the air and all that bullshit. Most people think she was only with Draco for his name and fortune, how wrong they were! Somewhere along the way she fell head over heels for the cold-hearted wizard. What a tragedy indeed. 

Another night of eating alone effectively dispelled Astoria’s appetite. She picked the dog up and headed for the bedroom.

“Just you and me again tonight, Princess.”

Astoria tossed and turned in bed that night, alternating between dreams of a life finally married to Draco and nightmares of Hermione dragging him back down the altar to stop the wedding. A particularly nasty one had Astoria waking up screaming. Forgetting she was alone, she reached out across the bed for Draco. When her hands came up empty, she felt like the girl she used to be – alone in a big empty house while her parents and sister partied the night away in an attempt to widen their social standing. Astoria cried like that lonely little girl.

The next morning, she glamoured the puffiness away. She wasn’t backing down from this wedding without a fight.

***

 “Are you going to follow me at work all afternoon like a lost puppy?” she asked as she moved flipped through the reports she was reviewing. “Don’t you have a job to go do?”

“I’m playing hooky,” Blaise grinned at her. “Also, I’m waiting for you to say yes to dinner.”

“And I told you, I’m working.”

“It’s Friday night, Granger. Live a little!”

“Blaise-”

“He’s not coming,” he sighed.

“What are you-”

“Astoria finally cornered him in the Ministry last week, made him promise to show more excitement in the wedding. He’s been going home to the Manor no later than 6PM every day this week.”

“I-”

“I’ll pick you up at eight. By the way, one of the names on page seven is misspelled.”

Blaise left her speechless and conflicted. She was convinced Astoria was livid enough to cancel the wedding. But apparently it only spurred her to strong arm Draco into getting more involved. Hermione hasn’t been replaced as the MOH either, which added to her confusion. Shaking off the weird feeling, she flipped back to page seven to correct the name Blaise pointed out.

By seven fifty five that evening, she was ready for dinner. At eight on the dot, Blaise strolled into her living room with a bouquet of pink roses in hand.

“You look beautiful,” he smiled at her. “I hope I’m worth it.”

Not missing the look in his eyes and the hope in his voice, Hermione reached out for the flowers. “Let’s hope I’m worth the trouble.”

***

_MAY_

The paper on Lucius’s desk caught Draco’s eye. Before he could even comprehend why his father had a copy of The Sydney Wizard, he had the paper spread out in front of him. There in the headline of the Entertainment section was a full colour photo of his best friend snogging the daylights out of the Smartest Witch of Her Age in front of the Sydney Opera. 

The paper was snatched out his hands before he could rip it to shreds.

“Sit,” Lucius ordered. “Update me on the wedding. Shall I expect no hiccups?”

\---

**TBC**


	5. Of Honor FIVE

_Recap:_

_“Sit,” Lucius ordered. “Update me on the wedding. Shall I expect no hiccups?”_

 

xxx

 

**T-MINUS 4 WEEKS TO D-DAY**

 

Hermione packed up the last of her boxes before calling it a night. Going on an extended leave was an impulsive decision, one she and Blaise fought over. He thought she was crazy, ignoring the fact that he was the one who put the idea in her head in the first place. In the end, Kingsley made the decision for her. He was summoning her back to England. That last bit, Blaise was oblivious.

She tried sleeping but the indecision swirling in her stomach prevented that. Finally, at three in the morning, she took a long bath and changed into her travel clothes. Apparently, a soak was all she needed to call the Sandman’s attention. A few hours later, she was back in her office sorting files.

“Miss Granger?” Anya’s voice, faint and unsure, floated in from beyond the office door. “Your portkey activates in 2 hours. You still have to meet with the Minister.”

“Hey,” Hermione greeted Anya as she pulled the door open. Anya checked the office. After making sure there was nothing of value left behind, the two of them locked up and headed down to the Minister’s office. There was a box of farewell cupcakes waiting for her and a dozen teary eyes. Hermione hadn’t been in Australia that long, but the witches and wizards there had became like family to her in such a short period of time. After promising to drop by whenever she was in the continent, Hermione and Anya were on the road to grab Hermione’s things from her flat.

“Let’s go over it again. The wedding is on the 28th. You arrive on the 26th, correct?”

“Yes, Miss Granger.”

“Alright,” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Moving back home isn’t easy for her. She imagines it being harder for Anya, who’s lived in Sydney her whole life. In fact, it surprised Hermione how easily she said yes when she proposed relocating to London with her.

“If you want, you can send some of your bigger and heavier things ahead. I can set them up in your flat so you can get settled more easily when you arrive.”

“That’s not necessary, Miss Granger. It’s just me and my clothes. And probably a few knick-knacks.

“If you insist…” Hermione trailed off.

There was less of a tearful goodbye, more of last minute reminders as Hermione bustled about the flat. Anya smiled at her boss, scatterbrained as she was when stressed.

A couple of tugs on her navel later, Hermione nearly stumbled as she landed in the assigned receiving room at the British Ministry. A bored and sleepy witch barely paid her mind as she went through all the security checks. Given the ten hour time difference between Sydney and London, it was fairly quiet in the Ministry when she arrived. The Atrium was deserted as she made her way to the grates. She was about to throw some Floo powder in one of the grates when a lone figure started walking her way.

“Hey, stranger,” he bent down to peck her on the cheek. “Come by here often?”

“That…” Hermione laughed. “No. Honey, that was bad.”

“Can’t hurt to try,” Blaise shrugged. “No bags?”

“Undetectable Extension Charm,” Hermione held up her beaded bag. “Haven’t quite shaken the habit from that year on the run. Beside, much less hassle.”

“Smart, as expected. Same address then?”

Hermione shook her head. “Gave up my flat when I moved to Sydney. I figured I could start looking for one once I’m settled. Till then I thought I could stay with Harry at Grimmauld.”

Blaise took the Floo powder in her hand and gestured for her to step into the fireplace. “Zabini Manor,” he spoke as he threw down the powder. They landed in the fireplace of what Hermione recognized as Blaise’s private study.

“Why did you Floo us here?” Hermione was confused. “I told you I’d be staying at Grimmauld. Harry is expecting me.”

“No, he’s not,” Blaise admonished. “I was at an Auror meeting with Potter and Robbards tonight. You coming back became a topic of conversation. Potter never mentioned once that you were staying with him.”

Hermione kept still.

“Besides, the cat’s out of the bag,” he sighed heavily. “There was an article about us in The Sydney Wizard. And somehow, the Prophet picked up on it. They even sicced Skeeter on Potter. The entire Wizarding London knows we’re dating now.”

Hermione’s breath hitched. This was not good. Not good at all. With the entire community aware of how involved they were, going back to live with Harry was sure to raise a few eyebrows and wag a few tongues. Specifically, Skeeter’s. Not that her opinion mattered. Hermione could always threaten to expose her secret. It just wasn’t worth the hassle at this point.

Blaise smiled at her weakly before leading her out of the study. “I had the elves prepare one of the guest rooms for you. Same one you always sleep in when you’re here.”

They walked down the hallway to her room, right beside Blaise’s own suite. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by Honey with more enthusiasm than her other owner.

“She missed you a lot,” Blaise stood in the doorway. “We both did.”

“I can tell,” she laughed, hugging the squirming puppy as she sat on the couch. Blaise moved to sit on the opposite end, back straight as board.

“Listen, Granger,” she waited patiently as he bit out what was troubling him. “The past few weeks have been amazing.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No!” His eyes were as round as saucers, hinting an underlying panic. “Why would I bring you here if I were? Wait, are _you_ breaking up with me?”

“Not with you, just the ice you’re skating on. I’m supposed to be the serious one. Tell me what’s eating you.”

“Look,” he nearly stuttered, so very unlike him. “I like you. A lot. A whole of a hell lot. Maybe even go as far as falling in love with you.”

The nonchalant way he said it made Hermione freeze, which didn’t go unnoticed by Blaise.

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I understand that. All I’m asking is a chance. A chance to make this farce into something real for you, the way it is for me.”

A painful silence followed

“Blaise…” Hermione reached out for his hand, but he shot up off the couch. He stalked to the French doors that opened up to the balcony overlooking the vast gardens below. Hermione put down Honey and followed Blaise silently.

He had his back to her, hands on both sides clutching the railing so tight that his knuckles where white. In a split second decision, Hermione wrapped her arms around his middle and stayed put until she felt the tension leave his body. After what it felt like hours, he turned around in her arms.

“Are you done sulking?” she smiled up at him.

“Granger,” he sighed. “If you’re going to-”

She stopped him midsentence by standing on her tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Blaise swore his heart stopped as hope bloomed in his chest.

“I’m not exactly at the ‘falling in love’ part yet,” she whispered against his lips. “But don’t you dare insinuate this isn’t real for me either. That night you took me out to dinner, forcing me to face the reality of my situation, was when I realized I could actually be happy. That was the day it started becoming real for me.”

He pulled away, looking into her eyes, assessing the truth behind her words. When he saw no hesitation, the hope in his heart became full blown elation.

“You’re not going to regret this, I promise.”

 

***

 

“Mr Malfoy,” Sasha peeked into his office as soon as he arrived from a business lunch. “Your Father wants to see you.”

“Thanks, Sash. Be out in a bit.”

He straightened his clothes before flooing to the Manor. The door to his Father’s study was open as he approached

“You asked to see me, Father?”

“Sit,” Lucius ordered. “Firewhiskey?”

“No, thank you. I’m still on the clock.”

“I’ll never understand why you chose to become an ordinary Auror rather than learn the family business,” Lucius shook his head. This was a conversation they’ve had more times that Draco would care to count. “You could have been great.”

Draco wanted to roll his eyes.

“The Minister informed me that Miss Granger had sent in her two-weeks’ notice directly to his office last May. He was unable to sway her about leaving The DIMC but managed to convince her to stay in London for the wedding.”

“Stay in London? I don’t understand.”

“She’s leaving for Italy after the wedding. A much needed vacation, she tells me. But I’ve a feeling it’s a vacation she has no intention to come back from.”

“Granger always wanted to explore Europe again. All she’s been to so far are Scotland, Paris and Amsterdam. I promised I’d take her to Mykonos this year.”

“You know better than to make promises you don’t intend to keep,” Lucius all but scolded.

“I intend to-”

“How?” Lucius cut him off. “Between today and the wedding, when are you planning to take her to Greece? Or do you mean to leave your wife behind as you travel abroad with the muggleborn?”

“I-”

“Let her go, Draco. The betrothal is in place since before you were born. Breaking it has dire consequences.”

There was no other answer but yes. As Draco left his Father’s office, he couldn’t help but ask. “Where is she now?”

“I believe she’s staying with Blaise Zabini until the wedding is over.”

With a tight nod, he was gone.

 

xxx

 

**T-MINUS 3 WEEKS TO D-DAY**

 

It had been a week since Hermione arrived back in London. Mostly, she’d been catching up with friends she’d left behind and fielding questions the Weasleys threw at her. It wasn’t until this morning that she was summoned for wedding duties.

She was currently in a bakery in Diagon Alley, well known for its high society clientele despite being open only a year. Nothing but the best for the future Mrs. Malfoy. Draco was on a family business trip to Florence, to which Astoria tagged along. The bakery did not reschedule appointments, which left her to make the final decision on the cake.

“Miss Greengrass?”

“Granger, actually,” she shook the outstretched hand of the receptionist. “Hermione Granger. You can call me Hermione. Unfortunately, Astoria is away on business and sent me in her stead. I’m the Maid of Honor.”

“Miss Granger,” the receptionist squeaked. “It’s an honour to finally meet you. This way please.”

She followed the receptionist to what she called a tasting room. There were dozens of cake slices ready to be sampled and judged. Before she could sit on one of the couches, another receptionist was leading someone else into the room with her.

“Draco? What are you doing here? I thought you were travelling?”

“Astoria’s in Florence,” he shrugged. “Ever since she dragged me from Sydney, she’s been going on these relaxation retreats. Says it’s her turn to disappear and not give a damn about her wedding.”

“Oh,” Hermione bit her lip. She’d successfully avoided Draco since she arrived. Judging by the way he stared at her, he knew. Before she could apologize, the owner of the bakery had sauntered into the room.

“Welcome, welcome!” He clapped with glee, air kissing them both on each cheek. “Let me look at you. My, what a stunning couple! You’d make beautiful babies. Maybe not as beautiful as my creations, but lovely nonetheless! What are we standing around here for, let us begin!”

Throughout the whole cake tasting session, he addressed Hermione as the bride. Draco never corrected him. Neither did Hermione.

“I’m partial to the vanilla, myself. How about you?”

“I’m not the-”

“I’m just asking for your opinion on flavors, Granger. Nothing more.”

“Fine. Go with vanilla. But maybe the one with the green buttercream. Your cake’s going to be a green monstrosity anyway. At least the inside should have some semblance of taste, even if it is as sour as your impending nuptials.”

With that, she threw down her napkin and stormed out of the shop. Hermione knew she could have handled that better. But for the life of her, she just couldn’t.

 

***

 

“How did it go?” Blaise asked as he picked her up from Flourish and Blott’s. The scowl on her face told her volumes. “That bad?”

“If I had known your Slytherin partner in crime was going to be there, I wouldn’t have gone.”

“You can’t avoid him forever, you know? I mean, he _is_ the groom.”

“I know,” she knocked back her Americano as if it was a different kind of shot. “I can’t wait for this wedding to be over.”

 

xxx

 

**T-MINUS 2 WEEKS TO D-DAY**

 

Thanks to Blaise forgetting to set his alarm, even Hermione had woken up late. Very uncharacteristic of her. And because of today’s appointment, very unprofessional. She was running 30 minutes late to the final dress fitting for the wedding. She burst into Madam Malkin’s, apologies spilling out of her mouth for the dressmaker’s ears.

“Uhm, is everyone gone?”

“Gone? Hardly,” the older witch snickered. “You’re actually the first one here. How about you take a seat and calm down.”

“It’s half past 9. How am I not late?”

“In my years of working with brides and their ladies in waiting, when an appointment is set, expect them to come in an hour later. Minimum. So by my standards, you’re early. Tea, dear? You seem like you need it.”

“Thank you,” she accepted the cup graciously. “I’m Hermione, by the way. I’m the Maid of Honor.”

“No introductions necessary, Miss Granger. You’re still quite popular, you know? Have a look around while waiting. A dress might inspire you to make your own vows. I predict your bride won’t be here for another hour.”

Heeding the witch’s orders, ehem advice, Hermione drained her cup in one go and wiped her hands on a napkin before exploring the shop. It wouldn’t do to leave marks on any of the lovely creations. Two dresses in particular caught her eye. One was a trumpet style gown in blinding white, with a large off white bow in the back. For some reason, it reminded her of Blaise.

The other dress was more elaborate. Off-shoulder princess ball gown with a sweetheart neckline. The entire torso and the hem of the skirt was covered in elaborate crystal and silver beading. In her mind’s eye, she pictured herself wearing it walking towards…

“Hermione!” Astoria’s shriek interrupted her thoughts. She moved away from the dress towards the group of witches congregated near the back of the shop. A sign that said ‘Dressing Room’ caught her eye.

Astoria’s wedding gown was similar to the dress Hermione was admiring earlier, only with more accents of green. The top half of the dress was covered in emerald beading. Green and silver ribbons laced the almost non-existent back panels together. The hem of the skirt was done in green lace embroidery. Not even the veil was spared – white organza dotted with leaves. How very… Slytherin.

All hope for a classy MOH dress went out the window the moment she spied the bride’s dress. But as her own dress was brought out, Hermione could not help but sigh in relief. She was given a dress with little to no bells and whistles, and in pale green; because apparently everyone should _pale_ in comparison to the bride. Nor arguments there! Hermione left the shop unwounded and just a little bit wistful.

 

xxx

 

**T-MINUS 1 WEEK TO D-DAY**

 

“Draco?” Astoria called out from within the bedroom. “Is that you?”

“What are you doing in my bedroom? Were you not the one who insisted we should sleep apart until after the wedding? I’m just honoring your wishes.”

“Well, we could always not sleep,” she batted her eyelashes at him. She threw off the covers, revealing the dark green lingerie she had donned. She was about to crawl to him when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the bed.

“Astoria, I-”

“What?” She scowled, snatching her hand back from Draco’s grip and whipping on the robe that hung from one of the bed’s posts. “What possible excuse could you have this time? A headache? An mission? What lie are you going to feed me next?”

There it was. The reason for Astoria’s hostility the past month. She was still smarting about finding him in Hermione’s flat. She must have ratted him out to his Father, too. The man was relentless in reminding him of his duties to the Malfoy lineage.

“I’ve never lied to you! You never asked me where I was, so I didn’t think it mattered to you.”

“Omission of truth is as good as a lie,” She scoffed. “Tell me this, Draco. Do you even love me?”

He froze. Did he? He admits he’s grown fond of her. But love?

“Draco,” Astoria was in front of him, palms reached up to cup his face and force his eyes on hers. “Tell me you love me.”

A second of hesitation before he responded. “I do.”

“Just go,” Astoria dropped her hands. “I’ll see you at the altar.”

She turned and left.

xxx

 

**T-MINUS 1 DAY TO D-DAY**

 

“Goodness, child!” Astoria’s mother exclaimed. “The bags under your eyes are but luggages. Have you not been sleeping well?”

“I’m fine, Mother,” the bride swatted her mother’s hands away. “Just a bit stressed. I’ll get enough sleep tonight. Whatever isn’t gone by morning can be covered by glamour charms. Let’s just get through this rehearsal so I can rest.”

“We would have been done by now if you were here on time,” the older witch scolded. “But as it stands, your fiancé is even later than you. Where is Draco, anyway?”

“You mean he’s not here?” There was an underlying tone of panic in Astoria’s voice.

“He’s just running a bit late,” Blaise assured her from the other end of the red carpet set up on the Manor’s gardens. “Some last minute loose-ends so he can focus all his attention on you tomorrow and for the rest of your honeymoon.”

From where she stood, Astoria surveyed Blaise. More importantly, his arm around Hermione’s waist. Upon noticing her gaze on his arm, he pulled Hermione tighter against his side. Hermione, on the other hand, noticed the change and looked up from the papers in her hand to whoever Blaise was glowering at. She lifted her hand in a weak wave and turned around to place the same hand on Blaise’s cheek.

Draco chose that exact moment to show up. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

As Astoria followed her Maid of Honor down the aisle, she couldn’t help but stare at Hermione’s back. Specifically, on the left side where the bottom tip of her heart would be. A black swirl of script peeked above the edge of her dress. You wouldn’t know Hermione had a tattoo until you saw it on her. Unfortunately for Astoria, she’d seen that tattoo before. Left hand side. The exact same word tattooed on her fiancé’s back. Yet another reminder that Draco was not, and would never be fully hers.  

She should have been mad. But no. At this point, Astoria was just tired. Of all indecisions, all the untruths, all the unrequited love. From Draco.

And from her.

 

xxx

 

**D-DAY**

 

Astoria couldn’t sleep. Contrary to what she led her mother believe, Astoria was even more restless than she was before the rehearsal. There was a heavy weight in her heart. A stone, no- a boulder, of fear that something was going to go terribly wrong. After a couple more tosses and turns, she finally fell into a fitful sleep.

She was woken up the next morning by a house elf. Thankfully, the puffiness in her eyes had lessened. A few glamour charms and she was good to go.

The girls had arrived one by one, Hermione being the earliest of the bunch. Despite Astoria’s reservations about keeping her as the MOH, Hermione was a damn good one. If she hadn’t roped her into being the MOH, she would’ve hired her to coordinate the entire affair. Everything in terms of preparation for the day was squared and ready. All Astoria had to do was show up at the church and look pretty.

Meanwhile, Hermione was feeling a bit overwhelmed. The florists were nearly late. The cake was not finished. And her dress was a bit pinched at the waist. She showed Astoria and the witches a serene front, assuring them that everything was going according to plan, but inside she was ready to scream.

At a quarter past nine, the girls were called down to the parlour to wait for their cue. Half an hour later, the rest of the entourage had arrived at the Manor. The wedding party was called to line up and prepare to walk. She spied Draco at the front of the line, flanked by his parents. His face lit up as he spotted her and attempted to head her way. Lucius held him back.

Show time.

One by one, the wedding party walked down the aisle. As the flower girls started to sprinkle their petals, Astoria had stepped out of the parlour. She was a vision in green and white, a Slytherin princess indeed. Hair coifed up and held by a sparkling tiara, face done perfectly; and a smile so obviously painted on, Astoria looked like she could belong in a museum.

Hermione took one last glance at Astoria, before turning towards the aisle. Her eyes searched for Blaise and kept her eyes on him for the entire walk. As she reached the end, the band had changed their tune. The congregation stood to attention as the french doors opened and Astoria walked out.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione watched Draco watch Astoria glide towards him. The steel resolve in his eyes was the last nail in Hermione’s coffin.

 

***

 

“Chin up, darling,” Astoria’s mother gave her a pep talk as they waited for the doors to open. “This is the moment you’ve dreamt about your entire life. Eyes on the prize.”

Astoria could only nod. As she walked, she search for the face that could calm all her fears with just one smirk. There he was, waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Draco Malfoy, her dark knight. Every witch’s dream come true. She should be happy, ecstatic even.

But why does every step towards him feel like she was dragging iron shackles?

Before she knew it, her father was placing her hand in Draco’s.

“Dearly beloved…”

 

***

 

“Now, let us listen to our bride and groom declare their vows to one another, and by witness of this congregation. Draco,” the priest motioned to the groom.

Hermione need not listen to him wax poetic about his promises to his future wife, she helped him write them after all. As Draco ended his speech and slid the ring on Astoria’s finger, he caught Hermione’s eye. One last plea for help in her direction. She broke eye contact.

There was a visible tremble in Astoria’s hand as she reached for Draco’s.

“Draco,” she began. “This. All of this, is a fairy tale come true…”

Her vows were equally as moving as his. A tear slipped down one eye as she slid the ring on his finger.

“Now for the binding,” the officiator raised his wand.

“Wait,” Astoria said suddenly. “I-”

“Yes?”

“Astoria?”

The entire congregation went still.

“I can’t.”

Astoria slid the ring off her dainty finger.

“Not like this.”

She grasped Draco’s hand and closed his fingers over the ring.

“I’m sorry,” she choked as she stepped away from him. Turning to her parents, she repeated the only words that would come out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

With that, she ran.

 

\---

 

**END OF PART ONE**


	6. Best ONE

_Recap:_

_“I’m sorry,” she choked as she stepped away from him. Turning to her parents, she repeated the only words that would come out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”_

_xxx_

 

[PART TWO]

Best ONE

 

At first, Hermione thought it was part of her dream. How else would you explain a cellphone ringing while hiking through the Amazon rainforest? It stopped for a bit before it started again. This time she listened closely. It sounded like… Alex Gaskarth? The absurdity of the moment, coupled with Alex and Vic screeching about hearts on fire, woke her up. The muted glow of the magical clock on Blaise’s bedroom wall told her it was only about two in the morning. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that the singing came from her cellphone. As she reached for the Muggle device, the caller ID on the screen made her heart drop into her stomach.

_Harry_

“Mione,” the man on the other line spoke before she could even say hello.

“Give me half an hour,” she didn’t give him time to explain. “I’ll be right over.”

Hermione dropped the call and carefully slid out from under the covers so as not to wake Blaise. She silently picked up the pair of jeans she wore the night before and one of Blaise’s shirts before heading to the bathroom. When she left the bathroom, the bed was empty. Picking up her phone, she followed the smell of tea and coffee to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she smiled apologetically. “I just-”

“It’s Draco, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Give me five minutes to change,” He Accioed three tumblers from the cupboard. “Pour those into these, will you?”

“Blaise,” she wanted to protest.

“He’s like family to me, Granger.”

Half an hour later, she and Blaise were flooing into the Ministry. They took the lift to the DMLE and walked purposefully to the Auror Headquarters.

“I’d say it’s great to see you again, Mione,” Harry stood up from his desk and walked towards them. “But not under these circumstances.”

Hermione stepped forward and hugged him. “I know, Harry. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll come over for dinner soon.”

“Zabini,” Harry nodded at Blaise over Hermione’s head.

“Potter,” he nodded back. “What’s he done this time?”

“Nothing too serious,” he shrugged as Hermione moved out of his arms. “A little drunk and disorderly in a particularly shady area, not to mention Muggle. A patrolling officer recognized him and called the Muggle Liaison office. We got him out of there before things got ugly. I figured you want to keep this out of the Prophet considering what happened last week.”

A small but sad smile graced Hermione’s lips. Today was exactly one month after that disaster of a wedding. Despite being together only because of the betrothal in place before they were born, Draco admitted (under the influence of copious amounts of Firewhiskey) that he was starting to warm up to Astoria. At the very least, he tolerated her enough to at least go through with the wedding and try hard to make it work. Obviously, she didn’t return the sentiment. No one has heard from Astoria ever since she picked up her skirts and fled. Meanwhile, nearly the entire Wizarding Britain was aware of the downward spiral Draco took after he was left staring at his bride’s retreating dress train. After the first two drunken fights, Hermione had called in favors.

“He’s in my office,” Harry walked towards one of the offices across the bullpen. “I made Head Auror, by the way. Robbards retired.”

“I noticed,” Hermione smiled. “Congratulations.”

Draco was lying in the sofa, arm slung over his eyes. Hermione let out a deep sigh before attempting to wake him up. Meanwhile, Blaise stayed out of sight as he made a floo call.

“Hey,” Draco beamed at Hermione as he woke. “Come here often?”

“How much did you drink?” She laughed at how pathetic he sounded.

“Not nearly enough,” he hauled himself to a sitting position. “Sobered up from the sludge they pushed in my face.”

“Oi,” Harry protested. “Not all of us can afford expensive brown tasting piss every hour.”

 The three of them laughed at the clichéd conversation.

“Ready to go?” Blaise poked his head through the doorway.

Draco’s previously teasing mood turned blank at the sight of his partner. He stood up and threw on his robes. The two men shook hands with Harry while Hermione reached up to give him another hug. After extracting a promise from Draco to at least pick a classier place to get wasted, they were sent on their way.

“Really?” Draco angrily asked when he spotted his one of his Father’s elves waiting near the lift. He stalked to the lift, barely acknowledging the elf who waited for him.

“Go with him to Malfoy Manor,” Blaise nudged Hermione. “I’ll follow.”

“Why?”

“Just go.”

Hermione flooed to Malfoy Manor after Draco. He didn’t speak to her as the elf helped him rid his robes of soot.

 “Are you okay, love?”

“Sorry to wake you up at this hour,” Draco apologized to Narcissa. “I could have gone home to my flat in London.” He threw a dark look at the couple flooing in after him.

“It’s not Blaise’s fault,” she squeezed his upper arm. “Since that incident last week, your Father demanded he be informed immediately should you be picked up by the Muggle police again.”

_Again,_ he winced at the word. Has he been _that_ awful?

“Your Father’s in his study,” she pointed in its’ general direction. “So is the Minister.”

“Ah, bollocks.”

“Language,” Narcissa chastised mildly. “Off you go.”

Draco stalked off towards the snake pit         .

“Where’s he off to?” Blaise asked Narcissa, pecking her on the cheek.

“The study,” she responded. “You best hurry after him. Lucius, Kingsley, Potter, and the Chief Warlock are waiting.”

“I’ll be back,” Blaise whispered to Hermione before following Draco to Lucius’s study.

“Come on, darling,” Narcissa beckoned to Hermione. “How about a nice cup of tea?”

 

***

 

The sound of raised voices followed by the loud slam of a door echoed through the house an hour later. Draco stamped through the hall again and slammed another door as he left. Blaise followed his path at a more controlled, but equally angry, pace.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked Narcissa as she hurried into the foyer to check what the fuss was about.

“She’s in here,” she gestured to the parlour. “The poor dear was so exhausted, she all but fell into her third cup of tea. What happened?”

“Just Lucius being himself,” Blaise shrugged. “Still thinks he’s better than everybody.”

“He means well,” Narcissa admonished. “He no longer buys into the blood purity shite, pardon my French.”

“I know, Narcissa,” he sighed in defeat. “He’s just gone too far this time.”

Blaise didn’t explain any further. He picked up Hermione’s curled up from on the couch, careful not to wake her.

“I’ll see you at brunch on Sunday,” he kissed Narcissa on the forehead and headed to the fireplace with Hermione in his arms.

“Sure thing, love.”

As he walked away, Blaise stared at Hermione. He wondered what her reaction would be when she hears exactly what the argument tonight was about. He hoped to Merlin she wouldn’t run from him, too.

 

***

 

A week later, Blaise still hadn’t told Hermione about what happened in his Lucius’s study. She was content in his answer of _business as usual_ and hadn’t asked further. Besides, Hermione was too busy helping her assistant in moving across the ocean. She had Portkeyed back to Sydney to help Anya pack up the last of her stuff.

“I’m going to ask you one last time. Are you sure?” Hermione asked on their way to the Australian Ministry.

“Miss Granger,” Anya sighed. “There’s barely anything left for me in Sydney. When you told me you were leaving, all I saw in my future were more temp agencies and even more dead end jobs. So when you asked if I wanted to tag along, I saw the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I apologize for the delay, by the way. And I apologize for missing the wedding, or at least the clean-up after the non-wedding. I didn’t expect my landlord to put up such a fuss with my flat.”

“It’s fine, Anya.” A tired smile graced Hermione’s lips at the reminder of the disastrous event. “The wedding coordinator took care of most of the clean-up. My main job was to keep Draco out of trouble. Failed at that, by that way.”

“I heard,” Anya giggled. “Dare I ask if you’re sure you want to go back to working for the British Ministry?”

“I’m not,” Hermione confessed. There was a faraway look on her face at the thought. “But Kingsley insisted. Besides, he’s giving me another month off to get my affairs in order. I’m thinking of heading up to the States to visit some old friends. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Actually, Sasha offered to take me under her wing while you’re busy,” she shrugged. “I could use the help navigating Wizarding London.”

“Hey,” Hermione nudged Anya’s shoulder with hers. “Tell me when it’s becoming too much. I’ll be more than happy to show you around as a friend, rather than a boss.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Ms. Granger.”

The trip to London was uneventful. There was no Draco or Blaise to meet them at the Ministry, but one of the Junior Aurors stood nervously beside the fountain.

“Miss Granger? I was asked to escort you to the DMLE on orders of Head Auror Potter.”

“Am I under arrest?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Uhm,” the Junior Auror shuffled on the spot. “No, Miss Granger. He just said to wait for you and bring you to his office when you arrive.”

“Okay, hold on. Lead the way.”

The Auror turned and headed towards the lifts, Hermione and Anya hot on his heels.

“What’s going on?” Anya whispered to her boss.

“I have no idea,” Hermione whispered back. “Blaise didn’t say anything before I left.”

The three of them took the lift to the second floor. Another Auror was waiting for them, whispering hurriedly in his companion’s ear. Hermione caught snippets of the hushed conversation, but not enough to get sensible context.

“Change of plans, Miss Granger. We’re headed to the Minister’s office instead.”

By now, Hermione was really worried. She couldn’t even text Blaise as has yet to configure her Muggle cellphone to work within the Ministry. They went down another floor to the Office of the Minister of Magic and Support Staff. Anya was asked to wait in a newly installed lounge adjacent to where Hermione was taken. Half an hour later, a slightly dazed Hermione exited the room, followed by Harry and Kingsley.

“How about a spot of tea before you go, Miss Granger?”

“Thanks Kingsley,” she smiled weakly. “But I’ll pass. I still need to help my assistant settle in.”

“No worries,” he held out his hand to Anya. “Kingsley Shacklebolt, incumbent Minister of Magic. It’s nice to finally meet you, Miss Carson.”

“You as well, Minister,” Anya shook his hand firmly.

“I trust you’ll have no problems adjusting to our office. If you need any assistance, just ask one of the staff members on this floor, the DMLE on level two or the DIMC on level five. Looking forward to working with you, Miss Carson. Miss Granger, Auror Potter.”

In a flurry of dark purple robes, he left the three of them standing in his wake.

“What-”

“Let’s go.”

Before Anya could even ask what the Minister was talking about, Hermione had started walking back to the lifts. She held the door for her and Harry to go through.

“Mione…”

“I just need time, Harry,” Hermione shook her head.

“I was going to say,” he took her small hand in his bigger and rougher ones. “You and Anya are welcome to have dinner at the Burrow tonight. Charlie’s home for a bit so Molly’s preparing a feast. Bring Draco and Blaise with you.”

“We’ll be there,” she kissed him on the cheek right before the lifts opened to level two. “See you tonight.”

“See you,” he waved at the pair of them,

“Sorry about that,” Hermione finally addressed Anya. “I didn’t expect things to get crazy on your first day here. And it’s about to get even crazier.”

“It’s fine, Miss Granger. I expected as much, working for the Brightest Witch of the Age.”

“I always hated that nickname,” Hermione chuckled. “Almost as much as Harry hates his.”

When they arrived back in the Atrium, an elf suddenly popped up beside Hermione.

“I is escorting you home, Miss,” he announced proudly.

“You don’t have to, but thank you.”

The elf took hold of the arm of each witch and side Apparated them to Blaise’s home.

“We is here,” the elf announced when they arrived. “Call for Moppy if you needs me.”

He bowed before Disapparating with a snap of his fingers.

“Oh shit,” Anya’s jaw dropped at the gorgeous mansion they landed in. “You live _here_?”

“For now,” Hermione smiled sheepishly. “Welcome to Zabini Manor. I know, I know. I promise to answer all of your questions later.”

Blaise wasn’t home when they arrived. According to the note he left on their bed, he was in the field with Draco but would meet them in the Burrow at dinner. Hermione led Anya to the opposite wing of the house where her room had been set up.

“Wait,” Anya paused in the middle of the room she was shown. “I’m staying _here_?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione nodded. “Temporarily at least. Real estate prices in London are at an all-time high right now, even in the Wizarding area. Blaise and I figured you could set up camp here while we look for a reasonable deal on a good location. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have the room. Is that okay with you?”

“Okay? This is amazing!” Anya squealed and tackled Hermione into a hug. “Thank you _so_ much, Miss Granger.”

Hermione hugged her assistant back before releasing her with instructions to settle in and rest for a bit. They’d be heading to dinner at the Burrow in a few hours.

 

***

 

The doors flew open before they could even knock. A small child barreled into Anya, nearly knocking her off her feet. He looked up and frowned. Anya could see the confusion in the child’s face. Hermione crouched down and tapped him on the shoulder. The child’s wide smile returned as he hugged Hermione.

“I missed you, auntie Mimi.”

“Same here, rugrat.”

“About time you came home,” Anya’s gaze drifted from the two people beside her to a man Anya only ever saw on the cover of sports magazines. “Ginny bet you’d take a year to realize how much living in Australia is such a bore. Harry said you’d stick it out for a few years. I bet both of them you’d come back in half a year, but move in with the one of the Dark Duo. Guess Harry and Ginny both owe me.”

“Glad my comings and goings are still a part of your entertainment,” securing the toddler in her arms, Hermione brushed past the ginger.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Mione!” Ron laughingly called after Hermione. The two of them bickered as they turned the corner.

“You must be Anya,” a woman, who Anya also followed in the magazines, smiled at her from the doorway her boss just went through. “I apologize for Ron and Hermione. They bring out the best, and the worst in each other. They dated once, you know?”

“They did?”

“Hermione has some explaining to do, hasn’t she?”

“You can say that again,” Anya whistled. “I mean I knew she was part of the Golden Trio. Even down under, we were affected by the War. But..”

“Not what happened after?” The woman chuckled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Hermione and Ron dated, right after the Final Battle. But they only lasted about a week or so. Not long enough for the press to pick up on it at the time. At least not when there were too many, more important, things to focus on. In the end, both of them realized they were a terrible couple. And by terrible, I mean explosive.”

“When you say explosive, you mean…”

“Literally,” Ginny laughed. “They nearly blew up one of Hogwarts towers during the rebuilding. McGonagall sent them to work in opposite parts of the castle after that. Ron stayed to work in the towers and Mione down in the dungeons. Might have been where she and Draco started to get close.”

“Draco, as in Draco Malfoy?”

“Heard of him, have you?”

“He came by her office in Sydney almost every week.”

“Did he now? Hmm…” Ginny looked at her contemplatively. “Oh, where are my manners? Come in. Make yourself at home.”

Ginny ushered her inside. The noise Anya heard earlier amplified as they went through the house.

“I didn’t even introduce myself, did I?”

“No introductions needed, Miss Weasley,” Anya turned to face her, holding out a hand to shake. “I may not look like it, but I’m actually a Quidditch fan.”

“Let me guess,” Ginny laughed, shaking Anya’s outstretched hand. “Hermione gives you the tickets we send her?”

“Guilty,” she shrugged.

“In that case, you’re welcome at any games we have.” A blue streak whooshed past them. Ginny held Anya back just in time. “And you’ve also met my son, Teddy.”

“Son?”

“Adopted. He’s Remus and Tonks Lupin’s son, bless their souls. Harry’s his godfather so we adopted him the first chance we could. We take turns with ‘Meda in raising him.”

They passed a busy kitchen, where a plump redhead witch was directing spoons and pots and pans like an orchestra.

“That’s my mum. Best let her be while she cooks. Come on, lots more people for you to meet.”

Ginny pulled Anya through yet another door, this one leading towards a large backyard. A very long table was set up with even more redheads milling around it.  Anya spotted Hermione and Ron sitting on the far end of the table. There was a child, a girl this time, perched on Hermione’s lap and was pulling on the nearest curl of hair she could reach.

“Over there is the eldest of our lot, Bill,” Ginny pointed to a couple in the opposite side of the yard. “Don’t mind the scars on his face. He was attacked by a werewolf. He’s married to the woman beside him. She’s French. That one over there’s the reason we have a crowd tonight. Charlie’s a dragon tamer based in Romania. He’s only home for the weekend, but Mum’s still convincing him to stay and settle down. Be careful.”

Ginny chuckled darkly. A Frisbee, or something similar, whizzed past Anya’s ear.

“The idiot who threw that is George. He owns a joke shop in Diagon Alley. He had a twin, Fred, but sadly we lost him in the War.”

“I’m sorry,” Anya offered her condolences.

“Thank you,” Ginny smiled at her sadly. “Reality of war, Anya. Anyway, the woman currently holding George’s ear is Angelina. They would be together if George would just man up. You’ve already met Ron. Percy hardly ever comes around nowadays. I guess that’s all of the Weasley siblings. You’ll meet Mum and Dad later. Come on.”

They took a seat near Hermione and Ron. Anya was welcomed by the Weasley siblings one by one and cajoled into conversation. Half an hour later, Arthur Weasley and Harry came stumbling into the yard with Blaise and Draco in tow. Molly followed the boys, along with heaped dishes trailing after her. Whoops of joy and grumbles of _‘finally’_ reverberated around the table.

“Welcome home, Hermione and Charlie,” Molly smiled at the two of them. “And welcome to England, Anya. Everyone, dig in.”

Dinner was a rambunctious affair. There was never a moment of silence, even in between mouthfuls of the most delicious home cooked food Anya had ever tasted. Conversations were abundant around the table, with topics ranging from the best kind of baby food to who was predicted to win the upcoming World Cup.

“Momma,” little Teddy spoke from between Ginny and Harry. “Am I going to be a ring bearer in Auntie Mimi’s wedding?”

“What?” Ginny was startled. She had heard of Hermione and Blaise’s blossoming relationship. But wedding? “Where did you hear that, sweetie?”

“From Uncle Ron,” he pointed to the man currently stuffing his face with chicken. “He said Uncle Draco made a mess so his daddy was mad. And then Uncle Bill said Auntie Mimi and Uncle Blaise needed to clean it up. Then Daddy said you can’t clean up a sazter with another one. And then Uncle Ron said Auntie Mimi’s wedding was not like Uncle Draco’s. Why did Miss Astoria run, Momma? Was she scared of Uncle Draco because of the snake on his arm?”

The words that spilled out of the child’s mouth silenced the entire table. Draco’s fork fell out of his hand that made Hermione turn white as a sheet.

“I can’t be here,” he threw down the napkin he had clutched tightly in his hand. “Thank you for dinner, Molly.”

“Draco!” Hermione pushed her plate away and made to follow after Draco.

“Come on, Teddy,” Ginny drew her son’s attention away from the commotion. “Finish your dinner.”

“Did I say something bad, Momma? Why did Uncle Draco leave?”

“He’s just tired from the mission with Daddy and Uncle Blaise, love. It’s not your fault,” Ginny looked at the others with a silent plea to act normal. “Finish your plate and Daddy can take you flying on his broom afterwards.”

“I’ll go make sure your Auntie Mimi’s okay,” Blaise stood up from the table as well.

The previously noisy dinner became more subdued and was wracked with underlying tension. Draco, Hermione and Blaise never came back to dinner. Anya wondered if she should have followed her boss and tried to figure out how she was going to get back to Zabini Manor.

 

***

 

“Draco,” Hermione caught up with him right before he reached the Apparition point. “Please. Let me explain.”

“No need to explain, Granger. I’m happy for you and Blaise.” He pulled out of her grasp and turned on the spot.

“Draco!”

“Hermione,” Blaise caught her before she could tumble to the ground.

“Blaise, he’s gone,” she sobbed. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t, love,” Blaise reassured her. “He’s just confused right now. And maybe feeling a little bit betrayed. Give him a little time to clear his head and we’ll talk to him together, okay?”

He led her back towards the house and into the living room. A cup of her favourite tea had been placed on the table, most probably by Molly.

“Is the thought of marrying me really that bad?” Blaise asked her when her silent sobs have died down.

“Oh no,” Hermione realized how her breakdown must have looked. “Don’t get me wrong, Blaise. I care for you deeply. Maybe in a few years, I would have happily said yes if you asked.”

“But not right now?”

“No,” she admitted. “And not like this.”

 

\---

 

**TBC**


End file.
